


while we live

by heirophantomthief



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Study, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd Lives, Eventual Happy Ending, Letters, Light Angst, Mental Health Issues, Multi, Non-Binary Byleth, Post-Canon, Post-Time Skip, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25255390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heirophantomthief/pseuds/heirophantomthief
Summary: UPDATEthis fic has been rewritten and reposted as chapter 1 of 'we will still be here after your war'if you're interested in this series, start there!post silver snow/elements of azure moon-SILVER SNOW SPOILERS-inspired by post-grondor ghost-mitriDimitri survives the battle at Grondor field and returns to Fhirdiad to recuperate at Byleth/everone’s insistence.  His friends are busy but he finally has time to unravel the shadows that haunted his childhood, Lindhart helps.
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time posting and first ever fic. Mostly canon compliant with Silver Snow route, nearly everyone survives the war although not all students fought with the resistance. Dimitri is dealing with depression, trauma, memory loss/altered memory and dissociation. Raging boar Dimitri died at Grondor so there won't be a ton of fighting. I upped the rating to mature due to some violent flashbacks and dark themes picking up in chapter 4.
> 
> lightly edited after first upload for continuity, this fic is going places

Chapter 1  
Great Tree Moon 1187

Dimitri is settled in the quarters he once lived in as a prince. It was here he played with Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain, here that Glen tutored him, here that every so often his father strayed from his duties to read young Dimitri to sleep. Patricia had never come to this room, nor Edelgard. He must have stayed here briefly between the Officers Academy and his exile, but his memories from that time are dark and clouded. Only a few short moons have passed since Edelgard was defeated and the Church of Seiros burned itself from the inside out. Dimitri had found his miserable way back to the monastery and back to Byleth (again?). Byleth welcomed him with their blank eyes and soft smile. No Dimitri had not failed, no Dimitri was not a monster, yes Dimitri absolutely had a place in their vision of the future…just not yet. 

Everything was in such of state of unbalance the last thing they needed was an unbalanced former prince (not that Byleth would call him that) returning to his throne. Retire for a while, they said. Take a year without fighting, see your friends, live in the world a little, and see if you can’t chase those ghosts away. What could Dimitri do but say yes.

So Dimitri returned to Fhirdiad. Felix and Sylvain were celebrated generals now, leading negotiations with Sreng and constantly traveling from Fhirdiad to Gautier to Sreng to Fraldarius and back. Dimitri had lingered at Garreg Mach for the worst snows to pass and he had just missed them. They weren’t expected in the Capitol for months and the relationship with Sreng is tenuous yet. Dimitri will wait, he wants to write but he would not want them to abandon their task.

Viscount Kleimann had vanished and Dedue was rebuilding Duscar as an independent state (he was making such incredible progress!). Rodrigue had returned to manage Fraldarius, largely neglected in the last few years (entirely Dimitri’s fault). Sea routes with Leicester could be restored and the ports now welcomed traders from Sreng and Almyra. Ingrid’s father still held Galatea, so Byleth had named her temporary governor of the Faergun territory (her performance and the position would be reviewed in four years - a novel idea apparently devised by Lorenz and Ferdinand). Ingrid had claimed the royal chambers before Dimitri returned and he was certainly not about to take them from her. He was no king. She needed the space and enjoyed none of the privacy with a constant flow of ministers and pages keeping her busy every moment of the day. Annette was in Fhirdiad too, living with her mother in the city and teaching at the Sorcerers Academy with Lysithea. Linhardt had trailed after them to assist Lysithea with her crests (there were two?), though he spent most of his time in the castle and had thus become Dimitri’s unlikely companion.

They are breakfasting together in Dimitri’s modest sitting room when Linhardt slips two letters across the table before digging into his porridge and idly thumbing through an absolutely filthy manuscript. Dimitri is sipping tea and vibrating out of his skin as he ponders just how in the Goddess name he got here. He’s in his home, he is warm, fed, clean. The ghosts are largely gone but his mind will not quiet.

His dearest friends and erstwhile enemies are building such fascinating lives in this world they fought for. All Dimitri was good for was fighting had he had utterly failed. He’d been lost for so long and everyone around him had grown up without him, without him noticing and without his help. They don’t need him, even Dedue.

He takes a breath and carefully sets down his teacup to peruse the letters. They have both been opened already, who would write to him? The news that Dimitri Blaiddyd is alive and in Fhirdiad has not reached all corners of Fodlan yet and these missives came all the way from Brigid. One from Caspar to Linhardt and one from Ashe to Ingrid, detailing their journey with Petra to claim her throne. More classmates off doing extraordinary things while Dimitri ‘retires’ until they can trust him with something.

Linhardt squints up through the little round reading lenses perched on his nose, brandishes the manuscript, and clears his throat with a little cough.  
“Please settle yourself Dimitri, you’re positively quivering. I imagine you must be curious where I found such unusual reading material,” Dimitri directs his attention to the manuscript, densely printed with unsettling symbols and flaking something onto the tray of bread and eggs set between them, “I found an incredible library here in your basement and in it I think we’ll find all the answers you were looking for way back at Garreg Mach.”

Dimitri’s hands clamp down on the edge of the table with an ominous creak.  
“Wait, what?”

——

“I wasn’t always sleeping when you were in the library at Garreg Mach,” Linhardt lips curve in a smile that is altogether too clever for his sleepy affect, “I’d like you to tell me what you know about the mage Cornelia, she served here in the castle nearly your whole life right?”

Dimitri swallows loudly, his eye locked with Linhardt’s calm gaze, “She did”. He nods slowly, looking down to collect his thoughts. He had not expected the sudden swell of emotion in his chest or the dampness in his eye. “My mother succumbed to a terrible illness when I was very young. A plague swept through Faerghus and Cornelia came from Adestria with a cure. Too late to save my mother of course, but my father was deeply grateful. Many healers in the capitol had died and she was gifted with white magic so he appointed her to the royal household. As far as I know she barely left until the war turned and she fled. If I had gone to Fhirdiad instead…” he trails off. Only darkness that way.

“Indeed,” Linhardt politely ignores that last bit, “Cornelia left some fascinating materials here from her time as ‘Duchess’ and Ingrid didn’t have any interest in them so I’ve been combing though. I imagine before the witch disposed of your uncle and deposed of you, dear prince, she needed to hide her activities. I’m not certain when or how, but she sealed off much of the dungeons to house a library and research laboratory, perhaps that’s why she executed so many prisoners during her reign—nowhere to put them? In any case it’s the most well equipped dark magic lab I’ve seen and in her haste to escape she neglected to destroy it like every other Agarthan facility we’ve come across.”

Dimitri may have faded slightly at the casual reminder of Cornelia’s cruelty as duchess and the country he’d failed so spectacularly, the city he’d refused to save. How could Linhardt speak so calmly, reporting his findings like a droll account of traveling conditions. 

“Agarthan?” Dimitri croaks. When did he stand? He gentles the fingers still digging into the splintering tabletop.

“Yes,” Linhardt continues, smiling more softly now, “the ones Hubert called ‘those who slither in the dark’. They called themselves Agarthans, the ones you know as Kronya and Solan...at Remire...Byleth told you about Shambhala right?”

“Yes.” A city underground, not dark and dismal like the dungeons but blazing with strange light.

“Would you sit back down?” Linhardt gestures to his chair, inviting the former prince to seat himself at his own breakfast table. “How about you drink your tea and I’ll tell you my plan and we can get back to the details later.”

Dimitri has never so thoroughly appreciated Linhardt’s comfortable manner and complete lack of genteel etiquette. He is soft with Dimitri, but firmly guides their conversations and never hesitates to tell Dimitri what to do. So he sits with his hands in his lap, looks at his teacup, and waits for Linhardt to continue.

“There is a wealth of information to go through and my main objective is to discover information regarding crest experiments, to assist Lysithea in removing her second crest. I don’t believe those specific procedures were done here, but Cornelia appears to have been involved in a variety of crest related projects, including what she did to Hapi. I don’t expect you to assist with translating Agarthan texts or piecing together their rituals, but I was hoping you might help untangle her plans. We can’t build a new Fodlan if we don’t know which strings these ghouls were pulling and why.”

Now Lindhart smiles warmly, “I can’t guarantee your revenge, but I am confident we’ll discover exactly what happened at Duscar.” He rises and sweeps toward the door, “I look forward to working with you Dimitri, I am very curious and you seem so very bored.” He gives an odd little bow and promptly leaves before Dimitri can piece together a response.

——  
next time...Dimitri has tea with Annette


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri takes stock of Fhirdiad and the changes he missed and starts reconnecting with old friends.

Great Tree Moon 1187

Dimitri starts the day with a ride. He didn’t recognize any of the horses in the stable, but the gelding he chose is healthy and responsive. He follows fragments of trails he once knew and enjoys the crisp, refreshing air. Achingly familiar sights are cut and jumbled with the scars of war like an uncanny dream. The Blaiyyd woods are relatively untouched, preserved to entice game to stray near the castle. Once broad inviting parklands are rutted, surrounding fields are spoilt, irrigation ditches polluted, and the old fish pond is half filled with debris. The bones of Fhirdiad stand firm yet. The walls were not badly damaged in the war, only worn and scabbed from years of substandard maintenance. The city is cluttered with raw, new construction and an extended marketplace rises ramshackle from the mud outside the gates. 

Back inside, Dimitri flitters around the castle like a ghost. He washes up in the common baths and pokes around the library (the one in the north tower, he will not go below alone). Between his uncle, Cornelia, and now Ingrid, it’s difficult to pin down a written record of the last decade. The ledgers of King Lambert’s reign have been buried and squirreled away in odd places. Linhardt has assembled a few crates of Lambert’s letters and personal affects along with a piled mess of Rufus’ account-books. Cornelia doesn’t appear to have kept written records in the main castle or else she destroyed them. There must be more from Rufus as well, he was regent for five years and served on Lambert’s council before that. Perhaps Dimitri should investigate his uncle’s old manor at Itha, and the ‘discrete’ townhome he kept in Fhirdiad to entertain women away from the castle. Let Linhardt handle Cornelia’s dungeon, Dimitri can focus on his family secrets.

Ingrid coaxes Dimitri from the library to join her for dinner in the main hall. He keeps his eye on his plate and ears tuned to Ingrid’s voice if not her words The clamor of silverware, the sawing of meat, the bustle of bodies, the smell of men and wine and smoke—it’s almost overwhelming. The name ‘Dedue’ drifts past and he refocuses on his dinner companion.  
“…he stayed in touch with the men of Duscar we fought at the academy.”

“I didn’t know that,” Dimitri frowns. Restoring Duscar had been his ultimate goal, driving him towards kingship. He wanted the power to uncover who was responsible for the tragedy so the people of Duscar would be absolved and the true culprits punished. How had he missed this? Either Dedue had never told him, or had he forgotten—both failures of Dimitri as a friend and a king.

“Dimitri, you couldn’t have known everything. Dedue trusted that you would help out as king, but he didn’t want to wait and he didn’t expect you to do it all yourself. It turns out Kleimann was struggling to hold the territory as soon as he got it and he didn’t call you or your uncle for aid because he was ashamed of doing such a shit job.” 

Dimitri can’t help but smile at her language! A little huff of laughter escapes his lips as Ingrid the good knight badmouths a viscount (villain he may be). And she said his name so naturally, like lightly scolding a child. He feels traitorous tears welling up again, his throat tightens.

“The refugees”, Ingrid continues, “or Dedue says I should just say ‘Duscar’ to refer to his countrymen, were organizing in the mountains for years. They helped bust you out of jail and helped Dedue recover when he was injured. He thought you were dead again, so he stayed with Duscar until he heard you might be alive and joined the resistance. After the war, Byleth called for Kleimann’s arrest and Duscar laid siege to his stronghold, but somehow he vanished before they could capture him.”

“Just like Cornelia”

“Yeah, she abandoned Fhirdiad before we got here, we’re lucky she didn’t leave it burning. She’s probably off the continent by now, I’ve been a little too wrapped up in, you know, governing,” Ingrid gestures vaguely around the hall, at the people depending on her for a brighter future, “to think about tracking her down.”

Dimitri’s appetite vanishes and he shoves his plate toward Ingrid, “I am so sorry this burden has fallen on you, Ingrid. If I were not such a useless prince—”

“Stop right there,” Ingrid glares at him and viciously spears a roast potato from his plate, “I’m governing Faerghus because I want to and I’m good at it. If the war proved anything it’s that there are a lot of capable leaders in this country without depending on bloodlines, crests, or dynasties. Byleth refused to become King of Fodlan because they didn’t want to dump all this on one person. They’re back at Garreg Mach with Lorenz and Ferdinand cooking up a new system of government, so no more children are required to prop up a monarchy. You don’t need to be a prince to be worthy, Dimitri. And you’re not useless, you’re alive. That’s a lot more than any of us hoped for a long time.”

——

The following morning Linhardt guides Dimitri down narrow sloping streets to the burnt husk of the Royal School of Sorcery. Within the blackened walls they find the former entrance hall transformed into a lush, open courtyard. Fresh plaster coats the walls of an upper gallery, and a wooden scaffold carries workers to repair the roof over the dormitories. Annette launches herself from a stone corridor and embraces Dimitri with a crushing hug.

“Welcome to the New Fhirdiad Sorcerers Academy!” she trills. He holds her for a moment, feet dangling, before he sets her down. She immediately takes his hand and leads him to tea table in the shade. The spread is nearly identical to the ones they used to share at Garreg Mach, Annette probably took notes on those too.

Linhardt is already lounging and deep in impenetrable conversation with Lysithea (deep in a heavy slice of honey almond cake) while Annette steers Dimitri to his seat, beaming like the sun.

“Our first term starts next moon! We were hoping to be ready at the start of Great Tree, but with repairs and the weather, and then the dormitories weren’t ready.” She’s smiling and chattering and pouring tea. She nearly pushes an egg custard into Dimitri’s lap before he catches her hand once more. 

“It’s good to see you Annette.”

She bursts into tears. Oh no.

“Your highn—your—Dimitri,” she sobs and waves her hands limply, escaping Dimitri’s gentle grip. Lysithea hops up to loop her arms around Annette’s neck, shushing and soothing and scowling at Dimitri. This is his fault.

“Annie, he’s not dead, you don’t have to cry anymore.”

“It know, it’s just,” she whimpers incoherently. Lysithea straightens up and brushes the crumbs from her short gown, and rests her hand protectively on the crown of Annette’s head. She is the picture of tiny, curt, authority.

“Alright, Lin and I are going to go talk in my office. You guys figure this out and I’ll see you later, ok?” She gives Annie a pat before snagging a plate of cakes and dragging Linhardt down the corridor.

Dimitri lays his hand in the space between them and shifts forward in his seat a little, trying to see her scrunched up face poised an inch off the tablecloth.

“Annette?”

Her head pitches back and she wails, “we left you!”

“Annette,” Dimitri can’t meet her tear filled eyes so he tries to focus on the large cream colored bow tied around her throat. Her hair is gathered in loops below her ears like she wore at the academy, a bit longer and fuller now. “Annette, you didn’t leave me. I don’t think you could have helped me then, either.” 

If anything I abandoned you and all my lions and the people of Faerghus to bathe in Empire blood. Only Dimitri’s voice is left in his head now and it’s not helping.

“But I was here in Fhirdiad for years! I didn’t know you were alive, I didn’t know you escaped. When my father left to look for you—I didn’t believe him. I wrote to Felix and Sylvain when I could but—I don’t think it helped very much. I didn’t join the war until I heard the professor was back at the monastery leading the resistance. If I had gone with my father, or if we fought Cornelia at the beginning—” She buries her face in her hands.

“Annette,” Dimitri starts slowly. He doesn’t know how to do this anymore. The prince at the academy was house leader, he could have consoled a classmate. The prince could have had tea time with no tears at all.

“Annette, from what I can see, you all did very well without me. I am a lucky man to live to see you all again. And your father…Gustave would have done well to stay by your side. Following me didn’t do him any good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry i didn't mean to make annie cry
> 
> next time we roast gilbert


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dimitri and Annette talk about her dad/general faerghus issues, Dimitri remembers stuff, the plot appears

Chapter 3  
Great Tree Moon 1187

Dimitri is grateful there are no students at the New Fhirdiad Sorcerer’s Academy yet. They would have found their young headmaster propped against the disgraced prince of Faerghus, sitting on the broken cobblestones against a low wall in the courtyard, teacups abandoned, exhausted and drained of tears. Annette’s head rests on Dimitri’s shoulder as he strokes her hair. It is intimate in a way they have not been before, but it feels comfortable. It feels familiar.

“I wish I had known you growing up,” Dimitri muses. Annette’s pointed chin digs into his chest as she turns to look up at him. 

“Felix, Ingrid, and Sylvain were my dearest friends—I love them dearly still, but they could never stay with me. If you and I had been friends growing up we could have seen each other all the time.”

Long years have passed since Dimitri last had the time or mind to reminisce about his childhood. Before the tragedy he spent nearly every midwinter with Felix, Glen, Sylvain, and Ingrid. For a moon or more they would romp in the snow until the early twilight. They piled on furs before the roaring fire to read and snack until they fell asleep in a heap. On his birthday they would stay up all night playing games while the adults celebrated the crown prince with their own raucous partying. 

He spent entire summers in Fraldarius living like brothers with Felix and Glen while their fathers marched to war in Sreng. Those moons with Felix were like a dream. They trained together every morning before roaming the hills and rocky shores like tiny wandering knights. When they were in Fhirdiad, Felix would endure long hours of tutoring with Dimitri, fidgeting through lectures on history and etiquette until they could slip off to the woods to climb trees and wade in the icy stream. Then Felix would vanish and the dream was ended. In between visits Dimitri might be alone for whole seasons while Felix was carted off to Gautier or Galatea or simply home without Dimitri. When Glen came to live in Fhirdiad as a squire he wasn’t like a brother anymore, he was a knight in waiting. 

Why hadn’t Dimitri met Annette as a child? While House Dominic passed down a title, a crest, and a relic to match, they had no vast estate or vassals. Gustave served King Lambert as a captain of knights, kept a fine house in Fhirdiad, and his wife managed a few tenant farmers outside the city. Their honor came in serving the crown, not brokering wealth or influence. Gustave had been utterly devoted to the royal family, why to offer his daughter’s companionship to the prince? 

“Annette, why did I not meet you as a child? Gustave was at the castle nearly every day.”

“My father thought I would be a distraction to the prince.”

Annette sniffs and straightens up, leaning away from Dimitri a little. It is difficult to talk about her father like this. She spent so many years devoted to her father without question and so long after that desperately trying to understand his actions.

“He said there was no reason for us to meet. I wasn’t going to be a knight, so I couldn’t serve you and I was not—suitable—to be your queen, so…that’s it. Protecting and training you was his job, serving the King was his job. I couldn’t help you so…he kept me away.”

“Apologies to the dead, Annette, but your father was a fool.”

She surprises him with a giggle at that and turns to face him, settling on her knees and smiling.

“Apology accepted. He would have been upset by something silly like that and he didn’t even balk when you were—“ she stops abruptly, comically aghast with her hand over her mouth and her eyes wide. She backpedals ferociously.

“I am so sorry, Dimitri, I didn’t mean to remind you of— or I didn’t mean you were—”

“It’s alright, Annette. I understand. Gustave took his oath very seriously. He was devoted to the crown, but he did not care for the man who wore it. He was more concerned with his honor than the casualties of his actions. He would have been right not to follow me—he would have been right to kill me if he could—but he chose to follow a viscous beast to his last breath and never questioned if I was worth it. He helped a corpse lead men to their doom with no hope for victory.

“Growing up, I thought he was the pinnacle of chivalry. He wasn’t like the hero of a story, but he was a stalwart general—loyal, obedient, and true. Rodrigue may have been my father’s shield in battle, but Gustave was his shield every day. He trained me in sword, lance, and spear, he taught me tactics, he spent more time with me than my own father—so much I never knew he had his own family.

“I am deeply ashamed to admit it…but, of all of them, I was not haunted by his death.”

—————————

By the time Linhardt comes to collect him, Dimitri is sitting at the table with Annette, digging into a now gelatinous egg custard. The two are chatting warmly, though Linhardt can see the remnants of emotional wreckage on their faces.

“Have a good chat?” he asks.

“Yes, we’re childhood friends now,” Annette beams, “we’ve bonded over my father’s failures.”

“Excellent. Dimitri, come along. We’ve got work to do.”

—————————

For the first time since his return Dimitri feels like the dark cloud on his mind has cleared. His conversation with Annette was invigorating, refreshing. He unburdened a great weight of sorrow, fear, guilt, and anger. He can do this now, he can live. His friendships at the academy were shadowed by secret hurts and the blossoming war, but in one morning he turned it around. They can rebuild their relationships deeper and stronger and they can all be so much better than their parents were.

As they climb towards the castle, however, Dimitri’s agitation grows. This worked very well with kind and forgiving Annette, but what about his other friends? Annette had only known the charming prince at the academy. She was not betrayed by his falsity or viciousness. She didn’t see the monster he became, or remember the soft boy he had been. His old friends may not embrace him so easily.

And what of those he didn’t have a relationship with before? Annette had some good memories to pull from, some grounds to trust him. Why would anyone else? He and Linhardt had no connection to build on, surely the mage only saw him as a means to an end—broken enough to be harmless and sufficiently alive to be useful.

Dimitri barely spoke to Linhardt at the Academy. He had kept a quiet distance from all the Black Eagle students. Edelgard’s coolness at their reunion had been enough to ward Dimitri off approaching anyone in her house. At first he felt betrayed that she would not acknowledge him as anything but a stranger. He made peace believing she had political motivation to keep their past a secret. He had been such a foolish little boy to think she cared enough to lie when she simply did not remember him at all.

He remembers Linhardt drowsing through the one faith magic seminar they both attended. He remembers Lin ensconced in books late at night in the library, Lin napping in the training hall while Dimitri and Caspar brawled. He remembers one quiet evening spotting Linhardt and the professor fishing off the pier. He might have said hello then, but as fascinating as the professor was, he had tried not to disturb them while they were with their students. His other classmates may have spent more time with the Black Eagles house, but as leader of his own Dimitri could not accompany them on missions or consider transferring like Mercedes had.

During the war his old classmates joined the professor and the former Black Eagles to fight Edelgard. They had even absorbed some of the golden deer. Hilda, Leonie, Lysithea and Lorenz joined the resistance while Claude maintained a facade of Alliance neutrality and provided sanctuary to his less combative school friends. Dimitri had been alone then and he was now more of an outsider than Linhardt in his own castle.

When they arrive, Linhardt marches them straight up to the library tower, seemingly unfazed by Dimitri’s silence throughout their walk—he must have been lost in thought as well. They settle at a long table with a stack of books and folios borrowed from Lysithea.

“Linhardt, I want to help you, truly, and I will do all that I can. However I do not believe I remember anything useful from my childhood. Talking to Annette, I realized how sheltered I was from the troubles outside. Father let me sit in on some councils, and I was taught a great deal of history and theory, but I heard little of intrigues within Faerghun court and next to nothing about current relations with the Empire. I was rarely ill or injured so I never went to Cornelia for healing. She was often with my stepmother, but never when I was there. My stepmother was kind to me, but she never talked about her life outside the Kingdom or anything private really. After my father died, well—I was out of the loop for a while—I needed to recover, and then I was focused on proving the innocence of Duscar. I don’t know why any of it happened.”

“My dear prince, while I do hope you remember some juicy tidbits, I also mostly wanted to delegate the personal records to you. I’ll stick to the crest and dark magic stuff and you can handle your dad’s old diaries and whatever your uncle was up to. Even if you don’t remember any vital clues, you will likely be able to make connections I would not.”

Dimitri can do that, that sounds doable. This next part, this is harder.  
“There’s something else, Lin, about Cornelia, but it’s not from my childhood and I don’t—I don’t know how much of it was real?

“When I was a prisoner here, underneath, Cornelia told me things. I don’t know what was truth or lies. Every word she said was poison.

“Lin, when I was down there, she did things to me, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is based on the silver snow route, but events from the game won't be covered directly so I'd like to clarify a couple points referenced in this chapter. SPOILERS for silver snow
> 
> Rather than follow Edelgard and Hubert, the rest of the Black Eagles reunite with Byleth and form the Resistance. They are joined by many of the Blue Lions, Golden Deer, and Church of Seiros allies. When the resistance fights at Fort Merceus, three armies collide at Grondor field. Edelgard’s army, Claude’s Leicester forces, and a group of kingdom loyalists headed by Rodrigue, Gilbert/Gustave and raging boar Dimitri clash, and all three armies take heavy losses. Rodrigue survives to retreat to Fraldarius, Gilbert dies like an ass, and Dimitri is badly injured (hedgehog) and left for dead. Edelgard is wounded and returns to Enbar and Claude vanishes (off to Almyra).
> 
> While I'm building on backstory established in the game, most of the stuff about Dimitri's childhood relationships and Faerghus nobility and politics are my own creation and may not mesh with official cannon.
> 
> I haven’t written dialogue in a long time, it’s not my fault Dimitri speaks in paragraphs.
> 
> I don't have any romantic ships set in stone for this but that could change. for now, ship as thou willt shall be the whole of the law


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Linhardt runs some tests, Dimitri reads some letters. The dagger makes an appearance.
> 
> A dagger is unsheathed on the table. The dagger. That dagger. He’s carried it every day since Byleth gave it to him. When did he take it out, was he showing Lin? The blade is wiped clean, a handkerchief folded tidily underneath. Next to it sits a sort of glass case with a sliding cover. Dimitri can see the inside is smeared with blood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw - this chapter includes descriptions of violence, reference to torture and self harm, mentions of childbirth and miscarriage

Great Tree Moon 1187

“What did she tell you?”

Linhardt is busy arranging a heavy brass plate on the table between them. The edges are slightly raised, etched with interlocking sigils. The center lies thick and smooth.He offered to set up the device in his room, but Dimitri does not anticipate anyone interrupting them in the library. This shouldn’t take long.

“Cornelia said my stepmother despised me, that she was the one who killed my father.”

“You don’t believe her?”

“No. I—I saw the attackers in Duscar.They looked like men of Faerghus. I know Patricia did not love me like—like her own, but…” Dimitri grimaces.

“What else did Cornelia say?”

“She said many foul things about my father as well,” he growls, a low ripple from his gut.

He remembers Cornelia’s pale mask-like features warped in pleasure as her mouth spews filth and her knife curls into his flesh. He sees the shriveled corpse of his stepmother screaming from the corner of his monastery bedroom. Disgust is etched in Lambert’s gaunt face, looming over Dimitri every night when he kneels to beg forgiveness. He sees flames licking up the walls of a carriage with Patricia pounding frantic inside. He sees the gleaming edge of the ax when it finds his father’s throat. Beyond, if he keeps pushing through, he catches a glimpse of his father towering tall with a proud smile on his lips. He can make out the shadow of his stepmother sewing at the windowsill, the ghost of her voice in song.

Linhardt delicately screws one end of a flexible tube into the side of the plate and attaches a conical glass cup to the other end.With one slender finger and a whisper, the sigils on the plate buzz to life.

“Lay your hand here, Dimitri.”

Dimitri obeys.He peels the dark leather glove from his right hand and lays his palm lightly on the cool brass. The back of his hand is pitted and crossed with training scars, like any Faerghun warrior, interrupted by a few pinkish burns reaching around his thumb and wrist.

Like all Fodlan nobles, Dimitri’s blood was tested for a crest at birth. This device is Linhardt’s own creation, modeled on Professor Hanneman’s contactless crest detector. He adjusts Dimitri’s hand so it lies in the center of the plate and holds the cup so the open end hovers a few inches above.

“Ready? There will be a tingle, nothing too unpleasant.” Dimitri nods.

Linhardt channels a spell into the plate and a faint glow builds in the space between crosshatched skin and the glass chamber.Dimitri is accustomed to dulled sensation in his palms, his hands are mighty weapons. He does not feel a tingle. The light solidifies to draw a few curving lines.Dimitri can’t remember the last time he activated his crest, but he would recognize the mark of Blaiddyd anywhere. The symbol is present in this very room, prominently carved in the mantelpiece. The pattern tracing itself in the air before him is not the crest of Blaiddyd. Linhardt stares intently as the crest sign stutters, breaks apart, and flickers back, shifting and uncertain. It pulses brightly, expands in a flash of intense blue, and dissipates.

“What was that?” Dimitri asks.

“Hmmm…”

Linhardt removes Dimitri’s hand from the plate and replaces it with his own, repositions the cup, and channels the spell again.

Dimitri watches closely as drops of light bead on the supple surface of Linhardt's skin, then lift off and up.They coalesce to draw two ‘u’ shapes, the smaller nestled inside the larger. They pinch slightly into points at the bottom and a curved, inverted ‘v’ forms to slash a peak through them.This light is fainter than Dimitri's, pale green, and steady where his pulsed erratically. 

The symbol is the same as Dimitri’s.

Linhardt sets down the cup and the light vanishes. He laces his elegant fingers together to prop up his chin.

“Cornelia did not give you a second crest like Edelgard or Lysithea, I figured as much since your hair color has not changed. It appears she replaced it.My initial hypothesis is that the Agarthans created a synthetic crest from Flayn’s blood—a crest of Cethlaenn— and Cornelia implanted this crest in you. As for your crest…well, she took it.”

****

Linhardt is talking, his voice fades to a dull drone as static rushes to fill the space between Dimitri’s ears.He is trying to remember the last time he used his crest.Did he kill all those Imperials without using it once?Did he claw a bloody trail across Grondor field without the Goddess’ blessing to spike his strength? He didn’t have Areadbhar, so he didn’t notice? What does Flayn’s crest even do?

Flayn was Nabatean like Rhea and Seteth. They lived thousands of years. Rhea’s blood kept Jeralt from aging and transformed her bishops into beasts.The professor slept for five years after she fell. Is this why Dimitri survived?His years in the wild are blurred at best.He took bad wounds escaping the dungeon and hid for some time, lost in fever and despair. He woke, he hunted imperials, crushed their skulls, woke, hunted, killed. He lived years like this without counting.He woke with new scars, he woke in frigid rivers and lonely caves, he woke in ruined camps with dead piled around him.

He remembers the first lance erupting through his chest at Grondor.He can see Edelgard directing her battalion, he has almost reached her.

Armored knees hit the earth.Breathless, gauntleted fingers scrabbling claws uselessly at the protruding blade.Edelgard watches him fall forward, not raising her ax to finish him. She doesn’t have to.He is not done yet, his arms catch before his face hits dirt.An arrow burrows into his shoulder.On his elbows and knees now, if he can get one good breath he can surge up, clear the distance in a heartbeat, sweep those curving horns from his sister’s head, bring her down with him.

A second lance, slower, presses through the meat of his middle, churns in the blood-wet mud below, pinning him in place. The roar dims, he cannot see if Edelgard laughs or cries, he she watches, he does not hear Gustave or Rodrigue. Those fools, he’s already dead.

“Dimitri.”

A low voice calls him back.The library, the fireplace, the afternoon light.

“Dimitri.”

The crest device is stowed in its case.Linhardt cradles the mess of Dimitri’s massive paw in his own unblemished hands.He strokes lightly over the palm where his flesh is thick pink scar tissue, broken by a few deep fissures. The warm resonance of healing magic lingers, soothing.

“Dimitri. Thank you for the sample but next time you ought to let me do it.”

A dagger is unsheathed on the table. _The_ dagger. _That_ dagger. He’s carried it every day since Byleth gave it to him.When did he take it out, was he showing Lin? The blade is wiped clean, a handkerchief folded tidily underneath. Next to it sits a sort of glass case with a sliding cover. Dimitri can see the inside is smeared with blood.

“Dimitri, do you know where you are?”

“I’m here.”

****

“I understand this complicates things, Dimitri. I won’t ask you to investigate the dungeon with me and if you want to call the whole thing off, you need not participate.”

“I am grateful for your concern, Linhardt. I am, unsure myself…what I am capable of.”

“We can catalogue the effects you’ve experienced to determine if you face a similar risk as Lysithea.Her crests put her life in immediate danger, so finding a way to remove one or both is still my objective. However, Cornelia is a more insidious threat than I initially thought…”

“She cannot be allowed to continue,” Dimitri says more resolutely than he feels, “I believe you are right in your approach, we do not know what she is capable of.Without understanding what she has done, how she has done it—I don’t know if we _can_ kill her.

“If you are all right with it, I’ll test the blood tomorrow to assess your health.”

“Thank you, Linhardt.Could we keep this between us for now?I do not wish to worry anyone further.”

“As you wish, my prince.”

****

Dimitri eats dinner alone in his sitting room, Linhardt had excused himself to write a letter. A slick, dark wooden box waits on his desk. Following their conversation in the library, Linhardt passed along Dimitri’s first assignment: a magically sealed box. Only a Blaiddyd armed with the king’s signet ring can open it without the contents turning to ash. Whatever hides inside must be exceptionally valuable or deeply personal, and either might aid their investigation.

Duke Fraldarius left the heavy ring in Ingrid’s care, it’s useless in a realm without a king.Dimitri twists the ornate rim so a tiny spike levers into place with a click.It pokes up from the flat center of the ring, lightly engraved with the crest of Blaiddyd.Even without his crest, his blood is still Blaiddyd, right? Linhardt told him to be more cautious with his blood.Earlier he had cut his palm quite deeply and the mage rushed to prepare his sample tray. Dimitri pricks a bead of blood from his thumb, retracts the spike, and presses to smudge the incised sigil with blood.The ring hums as he lines it up with the carved seal on the otherwise seamless box.

The front panel falls forward with a puff of dust, revealing a stack of letters, heavy paper marked with the blue-gray seal of House Fraldarius.Dimitri rifles through the stack. The letters are organized chronologically, with the oldest dating just after Lambert and Rodrigue left the Officer’s Academy.Dimitri flips through to find the year Cornelia arrives in Fhirdiad.

_6 Wyvern Moon 1165_

_His Majesty King Lambert Egitte Blaiddyd_

_An unknown illness plagues Port Fraldarius.Two weeks past a trading vessel called the_ Black Sea Star _arrived carrying a hold of Almyran wine and textiles from Derdrieu.Several of the dockhands who unloaded the ship, an inn-keep who served the sailors, and several others known to have contact with the_ Star _have died of a sudden fever.All new entrants to the port will be kept at dock ten days before allowed to come ashore.In spite of these precautions, the fever has spread among the townsfolk and I have heard similar reports from Conand down to Galatea.Fhirdiad must prepare for an influx of travelers carrying disease.Conventional healing and remedies have not been effective. My home is yet untouched, the boys are safe and healthy._

_I pray to Seiros this illness burns out before it reaches the Capitol, it will spread quickly in a dense population. The dukedom is already seeing a loss in tariffs from the slowed shipping._

_Goddess Bless,_

_Duke Rodrigue Achille Fraldarius_

The letters continue in this vein, each one from Rodrigue to Lambert, ranging in length and tone. Some are formal, some teasing, some despondent. Dimitri knew they were close, boyhood friends like he, Felix, and Glenn. It is evident Rodrigue spoke his mind openly to the King, including criticism and familiar inquiries.Dimitri will have to reach out to Duke Fraldarius, see what he remembers and what he is willing to share. Perhaps he has saved the counterpoints to these missives, sealed with royal Blaiddyd blue.

_28 Red Wolf Moon 1165_

_We have had no new deaths from plague for twelve days. Shipping has ceased altogether will not resume until the spring thaw—we have no mages available to open the bay.I regret to inform you Duchess Isa’s pregnancy has ended prematurely.Glenn and Felix remain well.I fear that even with the lapse in infection we face a terrible winter.Many were unable to take in their last harvests before the frost. Wolves have become brave without hunters to cull them. I fear I find little to celebrate this Founding Day. I will not be traveling to Fhirdiad to celebrate your son’s third birthday, I pray that you and your family remain safe._

_20 Ethereal Moon 1165_

_I just received word of the Queen’s death. I deeply regret to be away from you at such a time. The Dukedom is cold and still.Isa is unwell.I pray to Sothis our children are spared.I find myself believing the whispers that this plague is a curse on all Faerghus. Should we survive to see the spring we must seek the Goddess’ forgiveness and appeal for her favor._

_8 Guardian Moon 1165_

_Your last letter brought me great relief.I have heard only horrors of hard the fever struck Fhirdiad.To have a cure is truly a miracle.As a fellow practitioner of the healing arts, I anticipate meeting this Adestrian mage, her skill must far surpass my own. Perhaps she may share some wisdom from the Empire to strengthen our own faith. The Duchess’ health is greatly improved though I fear we will have no further heirs._

_20 Great Tree Moon 1166_

_It brings be great joy to hear of your successes in the Capitol.Lady Cornelia is surely a saint to assist you.The port of Fraldarius is free of ice and ships arrive daily. I agree with your suggestion we take greater precautions in the passage of travelers, merchants, and goods across our borders. We cannot allow another plague to ravage the country in our lifetime. Our greatest duty is to protect the people of Faerghus.I will attend the council at the Blue Sea Moon that we may discuss this further.Greatest thanks to Sothis and her Saints._

_3 Wyvern Moon 1166_

_I have only just returned from Fhirdiad and I have several new proposals drafted regarding our revised trade arrangement with the Alliance. Our sea ports are far too vulnerable to continue allowing their current privileges. Writing the old duke I am reminded of our days at the Academy, trouncing his son in the trading yards. Perhaps Reigan can convince his father to abide by your ruling. I was charmed once again by Lady Cornelia’s wit and vigor at the council table, however it is about time allowed other noblewomen at your dinner table so you may court a new wife._

_12 Guardian Moon 1166_

_Midwinter in the capitol was enchanting, it feels ages since the troubles of last year.I thank you again for blessing the engagement of my son Glenn.Lord Galatea has produced so many sons I count myself blessed to secure the hand of his daughter (the only one to inherit his crest!).The elder Gautier son made quite an impression in the training yard, however I found myself most enjoying watching the little ones play.The Margrave’s concern about the Sreng border seems overblown considering our recent hardships stemmed from the sea. Gautier was not so badly hit by the plague, perhaps he thinks a couple raiders can garner him some royal attention._

_Your happiness is dear to me and I am pleased to find you joyful in love in the wake of Rhiannon’s passing.However I urge you to consider an alternate lady to join you in holy matrimony if not your royal bed._

_23 Garland Moon 1167_

_I plan to arrive in Fhirdiad by 1 Blue Sea Moon with my wife and children.There is much to discuss over the summer council, though again I look forward to seeing the children enjoy each others company.Lord Galatea is sending two of his eldest sons to represent him as well as little Ingrid and the Margrave will attend with his boys as well.Lord Galatea’s territory may be poor, but his family proves most fertile of us—the Magravine has suffered another miscarriage and does not anticipate a full recovery._

_I cannot say I approve of your secret courtship, however, should it bear fruit I will wholeheartedly support your official union. It is high time Dimitri had a little brother or sister._

_30 Red Wolf Moon 1167_

_My plans to visit Fhirdiad for Dimitri’s 5 birthday are restored, the Gautier boy has been found and is recovering at home.Margrave Gautier's concerns about the security of the Sreng border have proven severe indeed if his child could be spirited away from their own estate. I am ashamed at my failure in judgement in this matter. We may convene an emergency council when the Margrave joins us for the Saint Chihol Feast.He also announced his intention to send Miklan to the Officers Academy this spring.At 17 he is old enough to join us for a campaign in Sreng, however Gautier believes he will benefit from training in discipline and leadership._

_14 Lone Moon 1167_

_I expect to welcome you to Fraldarius at the new moon for our march north.Isa is pleased to host the Crown Prince. Glenn and Felix are so overjoyed to spend six moons with their friend I think they have forgotten I am marching to war.The security of Faerghus rests on our shoulders.I am relieved by your decision to formally crown Dimitri and solidify his claim before we march.I feel the guardianship you have granted Cornelia for the duration of your absence exceeds her station, although you are right to suggest I have no more suitable candidate. Her experience wrangling nobles (including your brother) is unquestionable and she possesses tact that Gustave sorely lacks. However I must contest the authority you have given her over the Western church. She is a former Imperial and while her Faith magic is impressive, she is not a devout woman, unofficial consort or not._

_I know that you will laugh and smile and I know I will forgive you—but I will not let you rest on our march until I have talked myself to death over your choices of the heart._

_29 Red Wolf Moon 1168_

_I am home a mere month between the conclusion of our campaign and my impending visit to Fhirdiad.I must say again how pleased I am that our boys get along so well.They have asked no less than twenty times today why we cannot ride early and reunite with their prince. Gautier’s eldest is back from the Academy, he passed through on his journey home.Margrave Gautier says he was called to hold the border through the winter, but I heard tell he was discharged from the Academy. What mischief he must have got in when you and I passed with honors. The younger Gautier boy seems most unfortunate.They thought he had been captured again and searched nearly two days before they found him in a derelict well. It seems none of the Gautier’s will join us in Fhirdiad for Midwinter._

_1 Great Tree Moon 1169_

_I found your proposition regarding Duscar most interesting.We must speak more on it while we march north. The value of the mines and richness of the soil on the peninsula is significantly more tempting than the wastes we conquer in Sreng and less viciously guarded. Your consideration for improving their infrastructure is inspired.Much like Fraldarius prospers from trade passing through from the Alliance, the western territories could prosper by regulating trade out of Duscar. They already have a robust community of artisans, we would need only send a few Faerghun guild-masters to oversee them and their wares would be coveted across the continent. Preparing a trade route through the mountains will be tiresome, but certainly less costly than another war._

_9 Red Wolf Moon 1170_

_I must urge you again to end your relationship with Cornelia once and for all. She has failed again to provide you an heir.I understand you consider her a partner and she holds an important place in your council. It is your decision whether she warms your bed, but the realm needs a Queen.Felix returned from his summer in Fhirdiad with all manner of odd questions.Dimitri has gone too long without a mother, Felix returned from his summer in Fhirdiad with all sorts of odd questions. I have compiled a list of eligible young Faerghun noblewomen for you to consider.I would tell you to share it with your brother, but you are better off without nephews competing for the crown as well (another incentive for you to sire more heirs)._

_17 Lone Moon 1170_

_Another quiet winter. It seems Miklan Gautier has proven a worthwhile defender of the north.His brother was ill again.While I hope the crest-bearing boy grows into a man—Felix is very fond of him—I fear he may not be strong enough to bear his family’s Lance.I am relieved you have ended things with Cornelia, I urge you again to marry well and soon.It is the perfect time to push ahead with your plans for Duscar before they take a cue from Dagda and Brigid and knock diplomacy from the table._

_22 Garland Moon 1171_

_I am pleased to host the prince for the remainder of the summer while you enjoy your ‘honeymoon’ in the Capitol.I suppose I should not be surprised by another odd romantic choice from you (a noble imperial widow escaping the insurrection—really) She is charming, you certainly like to play the gallant. May the Goddess shower you with blessings._

_3 Guardian Moon 1171_

_Isa succumbed to her illness a few nights ago. I suppose in a year you will be bullying me to remarry and feed every snide comment back to me. Glenn will be twelve at the end of this year, it is time for him to train as a squire.Pending your approval I will send him to Fhirdiad in the new year. Seiros’ blessing to you and Patricia._

_21 Blue Sea Moon 1172_

_Your letter was a ray of hope in dark times. A royal baby at last, thank Sothis! Come spring all Faerghus can rejoice. I am glad Felix is spending the summer in Fhirdiad with the other children, it is good for him to be away from home for a while and with his brother.His letters are a joy to receive._

_4 Pegasus Moon 1172_

_I grieve yours and Patricia’s loss. I am beginning to believe the plague of 1165 was truly a curse or at least a harbinger of woe. Since that time the oldest houses in Faerghus have failed to welcome a single living child.Several minor houses have taken to adopting children to take their names should their bloodlines fail.You and I have both lost wives. I find myself praying our children will live at least as long as we do._

_17 Garland Moon 1173_

_From Gautier—rode to inspect the border.Miklan Gautier commands the loyalty of his men and his name is feared by the Srengi.Felix is spending the summer at the Gautier estate while I tour the northern territories. There has been a rash of attacks by strange beasts and an uptick in bandit activity. I shall return for the autumn council, I hear you have welcomed more clever Imperial nobles to your court.Perhaps I should find a wife from there as well.Does Patricia have a sister?_

_6 Great Tree Moon 1174_

_I expect to meet with you at Aironrod in three weeks time.From there we can tour the western territories to entertain and persuade before the meeting with Duscar at the Rhodos Coast.Preparing a land route to the peninsula is proving more difficult than anticipated, we will have to rally Count Rowe to raise more men.I admit I was somewhat surprised to here you mention the close friendship between Cornelia and Patricia, though I suppose they have you in common.Give my love to my son._

_3 Harpstring Moon 1175_

_Expect me by Saint Macuil’s day for Glenn’s knighting. We can ride after to meet with Lord Lonato of Gaspard.Why must your brother insist on provoking the Western Church, their support is vital in building the road to Duscar! Never fear, I’ll give him an earful when I’m there._

_15 Great Tree Moon 1176_

_Blessed new year. I shall arrive by the new moon to take up my post in Fhirdiad.I will assist Rufus to the best of my abilities (as I will do all the work and try not to bother him) while you go and do your Kingly best. I am confident in our work, though I cannot help but worry (is it too late to send Gustave with you as well?) I know, I know, it’s not an invasion and you don’t want to bring an army. It is an important symbol of trust to bring your family through the mountains on the inaugural trip to Duscar. I pray that Dimitri and Glenn forge their friendship on this mission of peace the way you and I did on our first mission of war._

Here the letters end. Dimitri knows well what happened next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's a lot of letters, here's a summary of key points.  
> \- The plague that killed Dimitri's mother also influenced Faerghus' isolationist policies. Cornelia arrived and immediately cured it--seems suspicious. Cornelia works closely with Lambert restoring Fhirdiad, becomes a key political player, and has an ongoing affair with Lambert.  
> \- Rodrigue was way interested in making sure Lambert marries again and has backup children which he does not.  
> \- minor references to Faerghus four, Felix's mom, Patricia, Miklan, other Faerghus nobles.  
> \- I named Dimitri's birth mom Rhiannon and Duchess Fraldarius Isa, they both die :(  
> \- Compare conquest of Sreng with diplomatic approach to Duscar  
> \- still don't really get a sense of Lambert's personality  
> \- subtle Rodrigue/Lambert shipping


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> announcement re repost

I decided to restructure this work, these chapters have been rewritten and posted as chapter one of "we will still be here after your war".   
I plan to continue updating that work with longer chapters, that I spend some more time on.   
If you've enjoyed it this far, I encourage you to check out the new update, there's a short scene at the end that wasn't included in these chapters. I also cleaned up some continuity as I plot out the rest of the story.


End file.
